Quotes About Nostalgia

Part of the trick of being happy is a refusal to allow oneself to become too nostalgic for the heady triumphs of one's youth.

Most young dealers of the Silicon Chip Era regard a reference library as merely a waste of space. Old Timers on the West Coast seem to retain a fondness for reference books that goes beyond the practical. Everything there is to know about a given volume may be only a click away, but there are still a few of us who'd rather have the book than the click. A bookman's love of books is a love of books, not merely of the information in them.

she remembered them kindly, for there was a sweetness in boys that didn't last long, once they became men.

It's funny, leaving a place, ain't it? he said. You never do know when you'll get back.

He ought to let the past keep its glow and not try to mix it with what he had in the present.

Part of him wanted to remember; part of him needed to forget.

Me and Call have always liked to get where we started for, even if it don't make a damn bit of sense.

He remembered the cold nights in their Arkansas cabin when he was a boy—how his mother piled quilts on top of him and his brothers, how peaceful it seemed under the quilts. Then it seemed like sleep was one of the most wonderful things in life.

It's funny, leaving a place, ain't it?" he said. "You never do know when you'll get back.

was not old enough to understand the need to go back to a place where things were simple. He had no happiness in his face, the young ranger; perhaps he had never had a place where things were simple, a place he could think about when he needed to remember happiness. Perhaps the young ranger had been unlucky—he might have no good place or good time to remember.

With Call suddenly determined to leave that very day, Augustus found himself regretful, nostalgic already for things he hadn't particularly cared for but hated to think of losing.

It's been quite a party ain't it?" Lonesome Dove

Augustus remembered his own love for Clara Allen—it had pained him and pleased him at once.

There was a period when he wanted to go back, when it would have been nice to sit with Maggie a few minutes and watch her fiddle with her hair. But he chose the river, and his solitude, thinking that in time the feeling would pass, and best so: he would stop thinking about Maggie, she would stop thinking about him... But it didn't pass--all that passed were years.

Well, that's where we started for," he said. "Me and Call have always liked to get where we started for, even if it don't make a damn bit of sense.

I ain't sick, Gus, Lippy said, a little embarrassed by his tears. Soon he felt a little better. Lonesome Dove was hidden—he could barely see the top of the little church house across the chaparral flats. It's funny, leaving a place, ain't it? he said. You never do know when you'll get back.

Memory was my drug of choice. -Pea Hicks

Så egendomligt overklig denna våning redan hade blivit! Det var inte en våning där någon bodde, utan en bild av en våning där någon hade bott. Precis som Goethehuset i Weimar eller August Strindbergs arbetsrum på Drottninggatan. En våning kunde bli en bild av sig själv när den inte längre var befolkad. Den var densamma som förut. Men den hade stelnat till bild.

you fill in the blanks—with stories and memories from the people who love you.

We only really remember things for five years. After that, what we remember, what's actually etched in our brain is our memory of the thing, not the thing itself. And five years after that, what's left is our memory of the memory.

Wasn't that the gift of a home? You looked at it the same way, but then when you needed it to, it showed you all over again the many ways you'd been during the time that you had been living there. The many ways it had brought you back to yourself.

Then he stands up and starts to head out, the way he came. And it's then that he says the one thing that only he would say to me. "The could-have-been boys still love you," Owen says. He isn't looking at me when he says it, his voice low. The way you say hello. The way you say goodbye.

I'd remember Matt, and I'd remember him wrong. And that was probably when I'd miss him most.

Wasn't that the gift of a home? You looked at it the same way, but then when you needed it to, it showed you all over again the many ways you'd been during the time you had been living there. The many ways it brought you back to yourself. The many ways it still brought you back to yourself.